The Return of His Angel
by Nyx Nightshade
Summary: Christine's first choice didn't turn out as grandly as she had planned. What will happen when she returns to her Angel? Can he take her back and trust her one more time?
1. Her Return

_A/N This takes place just after Christine leaves with Raoul. Think of a general movie time line, but with a past borrowed from the fabulous Susan Kay. _

_And it goes without saying, I don't own Erik, or Christine. In fact, anything you do recognize, isn't mine... If only..._

* * *

"No…"_'You can't be gone… You are my angel… My light… Without you, I'm nothing…' _Erik looked at his music box. It had stopped moments ago. Or was it days, weeks? It didn't matter, she was gone. He had loved her as well as he could, but it must not have been enough.

Erik glanced up at the clock, it had only been minutes since she had left, but it felt like an eternity. He didn't know how he would make it through the rest of his life if it would pass this slowly. He couldn't let it go on. His hand drifted down to his side where he kept a dagger and drew it out of it's sheath. A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he put it up to his neck, but a small draft reminded him his mask was not on. He would at least die with some vestige of dignity.

Erik hauled himself up and walked down the small set of stairs to where his home met the lake. He could have sworn he had seen his mask somewhere near the organ. He moved a few pieces of sheet music around in a vain attempt to find it. Erik didn't even notice the small figure hiding in a shadow. The form shifted slightly and it was enough to alert Erik to it's presence.

"Show yourself!" The knife was ready in his hand as he took a offensive posture. _'I didn't know the mob would have made it here this quickly!' _The figure gave a muffled whimper that Erik would have known anywhere. "Christine?" She stepped out of the shadows, mask in hand, and also, something else. She took another step closer to him and looked fearfully at the dagger in his hands. He slipped it back into the sheath at his side, all the while keeping his gaze on her. He swiftly regained his composure.

"My mask, Christine." She shivered when she heard his voice, but remained otherwise paralyzed. He couldn't help but raise his voice. "My mask!" She squeaked as he strode towards her and snatched it from her delicate hands. After repositioning it on his face, he turned his gaze to her, once again, the reveared Phantom of the Opera.

"Christine, why are you here, I know your fop must be pining for your precious company." He said this with dripping sarcasm. There was only one thing on the face of this godforsaken planet Erik hated more than a poorly composed arrangement. The repulsive creature that called itself Christine's fiancé.

"I… He…" Something was obviously causing her great strife. But Erik didn't have the patience to wait around all night.

"Spit it out woman."

"He fell into one of your traps." Tears began to stream down her face. Erik didn't quite grasp the implications of this at first.

'_Ah, well it seems my traps do still function after all…' _Then it came to him in a sweeping revelation. "The first thing you do when your man-of-choice is killed, is come running back to your leftovers?! Am I only good enough now that he is dead?!" Erik was enraged to say the least. He continued ranting for several minutes before Christine finally broke down and began sobbing. She crumpled to the floor and clutched the thing she held in her hands to her breast. Erik ceased yelling and looked down on his poor angel.

"Christine… I…" He moved toward her, and she flinched back. Any pity that had replaced his anger quickly vanished once again into the dark recesses of his thoughts. He looked into her chocolate eyes and murmured quietly, "Your chambers are as you left them." Christine struggled to her feet and gave Erik a wide berth as she made her way to her rooms. She gave him one last fearful look as she pushed the door shut behind her. It was his turn to flinch as the heavy lock barred him from her presence. His first thought was to be enraged at her mistrust. But on further contemplation, he dismissed it. He had been rather coarse with her, and may have frightened her a great deal.

He made his way back to his own chambers and pondered the events of the past few minutes, and then looked at the dagger by his side. With a sound that portrayed distaste, he unfastened his belt, and tossed it, and the sheath, to the side. He was once again in charge of his helpless ingénue. He cleaned himself up before changing into a new shirt and pants, and put on a cloak. It would be no use running about looking like the madman he was. A cold draft made it's way through the chambers, and his first thought was of Christine. She must be dreadfully cold down here in his dismal abyss.

He went back into the main living area and put more wood on the fire. It blazed, adding a soft light to the otherwise foreboding atmosphere. The lock on Christine's door unbolted, and he expected her to emerge, but was only met with the sight of a door that remained closed. Puzzled, he waited a moment longer before turning to the area he used to prepare food. He pulled fresh bread from the pantry as well as some fruit, and put on a pot of tea. No doubt she would be hungry when she did emerge, as she hadn't eaten since before the performance.

Inside Christine's room, Christine paced to and fro. She had changed into a simple emerald outfit and simply couldn't decide what to do with herself. Upon seeing Raoul impaled upon a protruding spike in a pit on the floor, she had turned and fled back to her beloved Angel of Music. _'Erik,' _she corrected herself mentally. A few weeks ago, she discovered his real name. It had been a rather uncomfortable situation for both of them, but it began the transition of her view of him as that of an angel, to a man. She realized she had paused in her pacing, and quickly resumed.

A few moments ago, she had unbolted her door, hoping Erik would understand the unspoken invitation. So far she had been unrewarded, but just as she was about to venture into the living chambers, there was a knock at her door.

"Christine? Christine, there is food out here if you're hungry." It was Erik.

'_As if it would be anyone else,' _she chided herself. "I'll… I'll be out in a moment," was her response. She did need a moment to prepare herself for the immense task of keeping company to Erik. He was a simply amazing man, but immensely complex, emotionally and otherwise.

"Alright." She didn't hear his tread as he stepped away, but didn't really expect to anyway. The man moved like a cat. Lithe and graceful, almost beyond reason. But, he was Erik, and so it was to be expected. She moved toward her door and opened it as quietly as she could. Never the less, Erik still turned as she emerged. There was simply no sneaking up on him.

Their eyes met and neither looked away. They remained staring for several moment before Erik broke the silence.

"Tea?"

* * *

_A/N I have once again returned to the land of the living. I really only intended this to be a short piece, but it seems to have taken on a mind of it's own. It has demanded to be something more, and so, I am a slave to it's whims. Expect more in the not so distant future._

_Your Author,_

_C. M._


	2. Her Lullaby

"Tea? Why… Yes I suppose. Tea would be lovely…"

"With lemon?" Erik turned back to pour her tea, the air of nonchalance didn't suit him at all. She wondered to herself if he had finally snapped under all of the emotional stress and gone daft.

"No thank you, but a tablespoon of sugar if you will…" Erik turned to her once again, stirring the sugar into her tea before setting it upon the only table in his home free of musical clutter. She descended the stairs that lead to her door and carefully picked her way to where he now sat, drinking his own beverage. Then, something caught her eye. His hands were free of the usual leather gloves.

To say she was captivated by the way his hands moved would be just shy of an understatement. Every small movement they made were influenced by a grace she didn't understand. Christine had seen him playing an instrument, and so had seen his fingers flow across the keys. Even when he played the violin. But to be so elegant while doing something as simple as drinking tea, it was ridiculous. She silently added it to her list of areas in which he was superior to her. The list was growing rather long.

"Christine? Your tea is getting cold." Erik just didn't understand her sometimes. She had stood staring at him for at least five minutes. Not saying anything, just watching. She snapped out of here reaver and sat across from him. After watching her take a sip of her tea, he let his eyes wander down, fully intending to see what time it was. Not that time really had much standing in a domain of darkness, but never the less, his eyes were caught on what was held by a chain around her neck. A simple gold band, the ring he had given her. It had replaced the Vicomte's ring.

"Christine, what is around your neck?" He was careful not to portray any emotion. He didn't want to make an ordeal out of this. She looked down, as if unsure herself. Her mind shifted back to the time not a scant few hours before, when she had replaced Raoul's overly gawdy display of affection with Erik's ring. He had given it to her during their last lesson before Don Juan Triumphant was to premier.

"It's… It's your ring Erik. If you want it back I…" He cut her off quickly.

"No, it's fine. Keep it. I have no use for it anyway." She was wearing his ring! Even this small display of acceptance was enough to make him almost giddy. Well, as giddy as he got anyway. He had appearances to maintain. It occurred to him that it must have been what she was holding yesterday when she had come running back to him. Remembering that he was her second choice was enough to put him out of his good mood.

He put down his empty cup and saucer, and stood from the table, before heading to his organ. He trailed his fingers over the keys before sitting down. He only made it halfway through the introduction before Christine made herself a nuisance again.

"Erik? Could you maybe…" She wasn't sure how to not upset him. Upset him again it seemed, as he had just sulked off without warning. She decided to just come out with it. "Erik? Will my lessons continue?" A dissonant cord echoed off the stone walls. But that didn't give her a clue to his answer.

"Yes, Christine." Your lessons will continue, but not today. On further thought, "But may I have some peace for the moment?" Christine, frightened, made herself scarce and vanished to the library. Erik rested his forehead in his hand, careful as to not dislodge his mask, and sighed. She could be truly troublesome sometimes, but at others, she was simply an Angel.

He played the composition that was spread in front of him., for simplicities Only after glancing at the title did he smile. _Christine's Lullaby. _He recalled humming the very same tune to her many nights that she couldn't sleep. Whether it be in her dressing room, or in her room just beyond these walls.

"Christine," her name flowed softly across his tongue. In the library, Christine looked up from the book she was reading, and listened to the music that was emanating from the organ. It brought to mind the many times her Angel had sung her to sleep. She drifted off as the sweet tune continued.

"Darkness stirs and wakes imagination…" He couldn't help but to sing along as he played. It may have been one of his favorite pieces that he had ever composed, and it belonged souly to _her_…

As last cords resonated through the chamber, her wondered here Christine had gotten off to. He checked her room, and after not finding her within, he went to the library. He found her there, curled on a chaise near the fire. Her book must have fallen on the floor when she fell asleep. He picked it up before turning to her and wondered silently at her macabre choice of reading. _'Wuthering Heights? Christine…' _

He put the book on table near the chaise, where it sat atop a small stack of sheet music, and lifted Christine into his arms. Erik returned her to her chambers, and blew out the candles, save one. She was deathly afraid of the dark. On his way out, he heard her mumble. He turned, but she was still sleeping. He smiled and silently made his way for the door again.

"Sleep well my angel…"

* * *

_ A/N Hm, well. It seems no plot has made it's way in yet. I'll just keep typing away, and maybe something interesting will edge it's way in._

_**Assumes announcer voice.**_

_Will Christine and Erik ever fall in love as fate intended? Can Erik release his bitter past?Well, the answer to the last one is a resounding, no. But we'll see about the first. _

_Until next time,_

_Your Authoress,_

_C. M._


	3. Bliss

"Ah my Christine, it seems that I've fallen quite hard over you again. But maybe I never was quite free of your charms in the first place." Erik was musing to himself as he sat at his piano bench one again. The lullaby he has played earlier still glistened in his mind along with the image of his angel.

In her room, Christine woke from her nap. The last thing she had remembered was reading _Wuthering Heights _in the library. She put her feet on the floor and stood before stretching sleep weary limbs before making her way to the door that separated her from the music room and living area.

Erik turned as the object of his thoughts emerged into his presence, he couldn't have a repeat of her first visit to his realm. Her brown eyes lightened as she made her way towards him.

Christine had no idea what came over her as she drifted toward the man of her dreams and nightmares. She began to hum a soft folk song that he recognized instantly, she had sang it many times in her childhood. He let the simple words emerge as she continued to hum.

He hardly knew what happened next, but soon found her in his arms. Then, she began to cry softly. His first reaction was to stiffen at the unfamiliar touch, but he soon relented and held her close, stroking her hair. The female mind was utterly exhausting at times, but how he had wished to hold her like this for so long…

"Christine?"

"Oh Erik… How could I have ever done so many terrible things to you, I've been so selfish. My poor Erik…"

Erik has no idea what had caused her sudden attitude change. Not a day ago she had sung of her fear of him, and now here she was crying in his arms.

"I don't want us to end up like Heathcliff and Catherine," she trailed off as a fresh burst of tears sprang forth. Erik continued to hold her and marveled at the effect of the written word.

A short time later, she stopped crying, but didn't make any move to remove herself from his embrace. The clock continued to move and Erik began to feel hopeful for the first time since he had seen Christine sing upon the lonesome stage with the little Giry girl. Maybe he stood an chance at happiness after all…

* * *

A/N So, I think I'm going to call this bit of disgustingly pure fluff done. I had an idea for a much longer piece this morning, but couldn't start until I finished this. Bring on the Angst! It'll be a Twilight piece for those who are interested, and much better written than this...

Until Then,

C. M.

P.S. Erik swishy cape hugs!


End file.
